


Lush

by Bubblegumbisexual



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, First Time, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:58:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9101302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblegumbisexual/pseuds/Bubblegumbisexual
Summary: John Watson doesn't have any idea what a bath bomb is. Sherlock feels the needs to show John just how wonderful they are.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First smut on this account. Constructive criticism appreciated. :)

“Sherlock, what is in here?” John asked when Sherlock walked through the door. Sherlock answered with a grunt. “Uh uh, you don’t get to do that. I had to leave work to sign for it. It’s from America. What the bloody hell is it?” John was angry. He’d had to leave the surgery early after a call from Sherlock, saying that Mrs. Hudson wasn’t going to be home and so he needed John to go home immediately. No explanation. So, exasperated, John had hurried home, only to find that the only reason was for a package. A package that had arrived from America. Sherlock strode into the kitchen where John was sitting, the package on the table. He smiled.  
“Let me draw a bath and I’ll show you.”   
“Wha-what?! You’ll what?” But Sherlock had already left for his bathroom. He turned on the spigot to the deep claw-foot tub and allowed the hot water to pour in. He quickly undressed, leaving the door open, and sat in the tub, allowing the water to rise, until it was a few inches from the edge. He turned off the water.   
John was standing in the kitchen, wrestling the box open. Once he did, he found there to be a thick catalog laying over a thousand packing peanuts. Across the front of the catalog “LUSH” was scrawled in messy font. He moved the catalog aside and dug his hands into the box. Inside, he found about a dozen bathbombs packaged within, various shapes, colours, and scents all mixed together.   
“Alright, John” Sherlock’s voice called from the bath.   
“Uh, Sherlock,” John said, unsure, “Which one?”  
“Just pick one you like.” John looked them over. There was one shaped like an egg and covered in gold dust. John figured that was as good as any. He walked into the bathroom, stopping when he realized Sherlock was already in the water, nude, his pale arms wrapped around his knees, where his chin rested. He looked up when John entered. He took up one side of the tub.   
“Which one did you pick?” Sherlock asked, reaching over the edge of the tub for a towel, drying his hands. John watched Sherlock’s exposed chest, his words catching in his throat. When Sherlock’s hands were dry, he held one out to John who quietly handed over the egg.   
“Sherlock, was are they?” John asked. Sherlock looked at him and blinked.   
“What?”  
“That. What is that. And all the others.”  
“John. You don’t know that this is?”  
“No.” Sherlock was just looking at him and he felt incredibly stupid.   
“Get in.”  
“What?” John’s mouth was agape, but Sherlock was acting preoccupied by the egg.   
“You heard me, get undressed and get in.”  
“You-you want me to take a bath with you?”  
“It’ll be an eye opening experience,” he mock promised. John stood for another moment, drinking in Sherlock’s white skin and the gold that was already covering his hands, and began to undress. At first, he felt self conscious, but thankfully, Sherlock’s eyes didn’t look up, instead inspecting the object in his hand. John climbed in, hissing at the heat of the water.   
“Jesus, Sherlock, are you trying to melt your skin off?” Sherlock just shrugged, waiting until John was submerged to look up. John sat at the other end of the tub, in the same position as Sherlock, his toes on top of Sherlock’s in the small amount of room in the middle of the tub. The water rose to their chests and Sherlock smiled at John, holding the bomb in his hand and slowly lowering it into the water. John watched as it bubbled, gold swirling into the water, fizzing in Sherlock’s palm. SHerlock waited a few moments, then let what remained of the egg sink to the bottom of the tub; it landed on their feet, continuing to fizz under the water. John took Sherlock’s hand without thinking, pulling it toward him, turning it in the light as the gold specks sparkled against Sherlock’s milk white skin. He brought the back of the hand up to his nose, breathing in the essential oils and Sherlock’s underlying scent.   
Sherlock watched John intently, barely breathing, as John breathed over his hand. His lips were millimeters away, but Sherlock refused to move his hand up to them. John had to do this.  
And he did, leaning just that much lower, his soft lips pressing softly against the flesh, the glitter spreading to John’s lips. Wide-eyed, john pulled back, dropping Sherlock’s hand, but Sherlock acted as though nothing had happened, instead grabbing one of John’s ankles and pulling it up to his lap. His thumb worked at John’s arch and the tension there, soft fingers lavishing against John’s heel. John sighed, blissfully, sinking deeper into the water and sliding closer to Sherlock.   
Then, without John or Sherlock meaning for it to happen, John’s foot brushed over Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock dropped John’s foot, his eyes snapping up. John was looking at him, surprise flushed red over his face. Had Sherlock been...hard? The dark look in Sherlock’s eyes scared him, but also pulled him.He pushed his foot back toward Sherlock, moving slowly, until it again brushed against his cock. Yep, definitely hard. John placed the ball of his foot against the base of Sherlock’s cock, slowly rubbing up the underside of his shaft. Sherlock leaned back against the edge of the tub, his hips moving up to John’s foot. John smirked, dragging Sherlock’s legs down and moving over them, placing his knees on the outside of Sherlock’s thighs, caught against the wall in the limited room. His hand closed around Sherlock, pumping up and twisting over the head of his cock. Sherlock’s breath hitched in his throat. His mind was spinning, not quite sure how John had ended up on top of him or where everything had escalated so quickly. John’s face was pressed into Sherlock’s neck, his teeth nibbling along the sensitive skin and raising goosebumps all over Sherlock.   
“John,” he moaned as John moved up to bit his earlobe, his cock twitching in John’s hand.   
“Mmmm?” was John’s response, his own cock now hard and pressed against Sherlock’s thigh. Sherlock opened his eyes, his hands moving down John’s back to his arse, gripping and repositioning the smaller man so that their cocks were now pressed together. Sherlock pulled John against his chest, John’s hands wrapping around Sherlock’s thin frame, their hips both rutting forward. Sherlock could John’s shallow breathing in his ear as they glided over one another, their skin slick from the water. John pulled back, holding Sherlock’s face in his hands.  
“I need more,” he breathed, Sherlock’s eyes widened as he squirmed to open his legs but John’s thighs held him where he was. John shook his head, chuckling breathlessly. “Not like that.” John lifted his arse from where he sat on Sherlock’s thigh, scooting forward. Sherlock pulled him up, supporting him with his chest and shoulders. “Are you sure?” Sherlock asked, his fingers twitching an inch from John’s entrance. John nodded into Sherlock’s neck, sucking on the soft skin.   
John shivers as Sherlock presses one of this long fingers against John’s entrance, gently rubbing in circles, working to relax the muscle. “John.” Sherlock sounded firm, his fingers working absentmindedly as he thought. “Are you going to need lube?” It took a moment for the thought to process in John’s hazy mind. When it did, he groaned.   
“Yeah, probably.” He admitted, annoyed.   
“Do you have any”  
“Yea-wait,” John thought. No he didn’t. He’d run out last week and hadn’t bought any yet. “No.” He said, defeatedly.   
“I don’t have anything oil based,” Sherlock mused. Why was that? He thought. “Hmm...There’s coconut oil in the kitchen.” John raised up to look at Sherlock, his brows arched.  
“Coconut oil?”  
“Don’t look so surprised. It’s body safe and an oil so it won’t dissipate like most water and silicone lubes. You’re a doctor; you should know that.”  
“Right. I’ll uh, I’ll be right back then.” John said, starting to rise, giving Sherlock an excellent view of his body. His cock stirred under the water. He watched John leave the room as he wrapped a towel around his waist. “Sherlock,” John called from the other room, “Are we going to need a rubber?” He immediately understood what John was actually asking. Sherlock, are you clean? John was hovering at the doorway now.   
“Up to you.” He was watching John. “I’m clean.” He added. John nodded and walked back into the bathroom, a small jar of coconut oil in his hands. Sherlock took the jar as John climbed back into the tub. He opened it, scooping out what he hoped would be enough and wiped it on the rim of the tub, then rubbed enough onto his own fingers to start. John got back into position, his chest against Sherlock’s. Sherlock’s fingers moved to John’s entrance once again, rubbing intently at the rim for a few minutes before sliding the tip of his finger inside.  
“Ah,” and John’s hand on his shoulder were the only response Sherlock received and he continued, slowly pushing up to his first knuckle before pulling out and working the finger back in. Sherlock continues this, enjoying John’s little “mmm”’s and “ahh”’s as he works in another finger and pushes them deeper. But when Sherlock curls his fingers slightly, pressing against John’s prostate, he receives an entirely different noise.   
“O-oh, sherlock, again. Do that again.” Sherlock obliges, brushing his fingers, making a sound escape from deep in John’s chest. Sherlock smiles, adding a third finger, and working slowly until he can again press that sweet spot. He can feel John’s thighs tighten around him.”Sherlock.” He grinds his teeth. “I want you now.” His voice is low and full of need. Sherlock reaches for more of the coconut oil, slicking himself. He guides his cock to press against John gently, letting the other man adjust himself if need be. He straightens his back a bit and leans back onto Sherlock, the head stretching John open and causing his fingers to dig into Sherlock’s shoulders.   
Sherlock remain still, supporting as much of John’s weight as possible and allowing to him work himself down at his own pace. Slowly, John lowers a bit more. His hand leaves Sherlock’s shoulder and tangles in Sherlock’s hair instead, pulled the soft curls and the wet hair that has matted against the nape of his neck. He elicits a quiet gasp from SHerlock’s slightly parted lips and dives into a kiss, pressing his tongue into SHerlock’s mouth as he lowers just a bit more. Sherlock sucks in air as the head of his cock is engulfed by John. Both men stop, breathless. John shakes, his muscles screaming from the tenseness. Sherlock puts his hands onto the back of John’s thighs, trying to support his weight better. John sinks down another inch, his eyes scrunching shut.   
“John,” Sherlock whispers in his ear, “when was the last time you did this?”  
“That obvious, eh?” he said, jaw clenched. “Not since...ah...uni? Couldn’t really...didn’t want to get discharged.” John was grinding his teeth as his continued to lower himself and now was pressed flush against Sherlock’s pelvis. “Ah...there.” He said, slouching forward.  
“John? Are you okay?” Sherlock felt a bit frantic.   
“Yeah,” was John’s drained reply. “Just a sec.” He was huffing against Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock looked down lovingly, tracing delicate swirls across John’s back. After a few moments, John moved his hips, grinding Sherlock into him. Sherlock lowers his hands and grips John’s arse firmly, moving his hip slightly.   
“God, John, you’re tight.” Sherlock could feel his cock throbbing. John leaned his forehead to Sherlock’s, looking into his eyes as he pulled his hips up and rocked them back down. SHerlock’s eyes rolled back.   
“Hey now,” John said, pulling tight on Sherlock’s curls, “none of that. Look at me.”Sherlock’s eyes fluttered but slowly opened, looking at John, as Sherlock began to back his hips up, pumping in and out of John, a bit roughly, but not enough to hurt John. He didn’t want to hurt John. No, in fact, John was holding the eye contact, but Sherlock could feel John’s fingers digging deep into his shoulder and the others twitching in his hair. Sherlock pushes fast, tilting up to press into John’s prostate. He pounds against it, watching as John begins to fall apart. He can tell the man around him’s vision is blurring, his eyes unfocused, his breathing hitching as Sherlock continues. He pulls one hand away from John arse and uses it to gently stroke John’s throbbing cock, running a finger over the tip, his hand gentle and soft compared to the force with which he fucks John.   
John head is swimming, his muscles tight as he lets Sherlock mold him, lets him have him. Choked moans escape his parted lips and Sherlock drinks them in, sucking on John’s lowers lip.   
“Ahh...Sherlock,” John breathes. He’s getting closer, Sherlock can feel it, but allows John to teeter on the edge, torn between the softness and the hardness, his body unsure. And then he feels it like lightning, the feeling filling up his body, he arches back, fingers still caught in Sherlock’s hair, as he fills up, pulsing and bucking as he spurts into the water, then slumping down against Sherlock. Instinctively, Sherlock stops moving. He’s on the edge as well, his swollen cock squeezed and begging to empty.   
“John,” he rubs the man’s back in light circles, “Are you okay?”  
“Yes,” John breathes.  
“Can I,” Sherlock clears his throat, slightly flexing his hips.  
“Yes, god yes, SHerlock. Jesus, I want to feel you fill me.” John is shuttering, and Sherlock holds him tight as he begins to pump into him. It’s not long before Sherlock is bucking, spine arching, as he relishes in filling John. He leans back against the tub, breathing heavily. Sentiment. He thinks, but he finds he doesn’t hate it. He certainly doesn’t hate John curled against his chest. But the smaller man is shivering now, the bath water gone cold some time ago. Sherlock adjusts himself, sliding out of John and lifting John up, wrapping a towel tightly around him, before following him out of the tub.   
“Bath bombs are wonderful,” John said, seeming dazed. Sherlock chuckled. They’d have to try out the one called Sex Bomb tomorrow night.


End file.
